


Holiday Lust

by UrsulaAngstrom



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaAngstrom/pseuds/UrsulaAngstrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An After-Thanksgiving/Before Christmas Holiday Story featuring Starsky & Hutch.  This story is Slash Fiction.    </p>
<p>Written & posted years ago on another S&H Slash Site under a different psuedonym.  (Apporimately 2003.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Lust

Holiday Lust

by Ursula Angstrom

Starsky usually began dropping hints about what he wanted for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving. So, Hutch was not the least bit surprised when he saw a peppermint-striped envelope wedged between the orange wattle and the yellow feet of the stuffed turkey toy Starsky had placed on top of the leftovers that were now in cold storage in the frig.

Smiling at Tom the Turkey Toy, Hutch rescued him--and the card he was holding--as he grabbed an unopened jug of orange juice with his other hand. Tucking Tom under one arm, Hutch put the card in the pocket of his green bathrobe, wandering onto the terrace with the orange juice as he waited for his coffee to brew.

Starsky had bought him an electric coffee maker with a timer for his birthday in August. At exactly 6:05 a.m. the timer activated the pot and warmed the water. Now, as he sat down on the redwood bench in the greenhouse, Hutch could smell his favorite java brewing as he opened his early Christmas card.

Jauntily perched on the wooden arm of the bench, Tom the Turkey Toy watched Hutch  
carefully tear open one side of the envelope. The expectant smile on Hutch's face was radiant with tenderness and love. Stifling a yawn, the sleep tousled blond gently pulled the red and green card out of the envelope and started chuckling as soon as he saw the fornicating elves on the front of the card.

On the left hand side of the card, written vertically, was the word CHRISTMAS. Each letter of that word had been capitalized because each letter of the word 'Christmas' began a sentence that was Starsky's idea of a holiday hint.

Care to have sex?  
Hey, lets have sex!  
Really could use some sex….  
It's really great day for some sex!  
Say, wanna have sex?  
Tis the season for sex!  
Might I interest you in some sex?  
Anytime is the right time for sex.  
So, ready for some sex?

When Hutch opened the card a handful of glittering snowflake confetti fell into his lap, sparkling like opals. 

The words on the inside of the card said:

Thinking of all my favorite Christmas things. (And they all include you.)

Beneath the pre-printed greeting Starsky had drawn the two of them as elves making out in the back of Santa's sleigh surrounded by the kind of toys only naughty boys and girls could buy at  
their favorite sex toy emporium: Santa's Sex Shoppe, which had stores in London, Paris and Frisco.

Giggling as he savored every lewd nuance of Starsky's elaborate doodle, Hutch felt himself  
flush with desire when he noticed that the Starsky elf was wearing red long johns that were similar to the red long johns Starsky wore when they went camping. 

Starsky looked devilishly handsome in that Torino red underwear. He wore those long johns often just to tantalize Hutch.

Hutch realized just how smitten he was with his handsome scamp of a partner when he found himself getting a raging erection just looking at Starsky's doodle.

The red long johns the Starsky elf was wearing had a flap in the back too. In Starsky's doodle, the Hutch elf had unbuttoned that flap and spanked his lover's impudent ass before he skewered him. Because the nether cheeks of the Starsky elf had been lightly shaded red and the Hutch elf looked ecstatic as he made love to the Starsky elf with his rampaging cock.

Bent over the front curve of Santa's sleigh--humping like mad--the Starsky elf looked rhapsodized. The Starsky elf was savoring every thrust of the cock ramming in and out of his ass, just like Starsky did in real life when they made love.

Wanting to create a similar expression of soaring ecstasy on his partner's handsome face, a rock hard Hutch left the erotic card with Tom for safekeeping. As soon as he stood up, opalescent snowflakes fell off of his lap and left a glittering trail from the bench to his bedroom as he stalked his sleeping prey.

One by one the snowflakes fell, Hutch's heart melting with every step as he approached the room where he'd left his lover sleeping in his big brass bed.

Wantonly sprawled across the huge mattress, Starsky's naked body was a feast for covetous eyes. From the top of his curly head to the soles of his slender feet, Starsky looked like a recumbent statue of a Greco-Roman warrior that Aphrodite's kiss had brought to life just to beguile him.

Awake or asleep, the sultry features of Starsky's face were always changing, always moving, always captivating; like restless clouds changing shape on a windy day. Starsky was never static, never boring, even when he was sleeping.

Hutch was an artist, so one of the first things he'd noticed about Starsky's face when they first met was that none of his features were symmetrical. If you drew an imaginary line down the center of Starsky's face and studied the shape of his eyes, his eyebrows, his cheeks, his nose, his lips, his chin and his ears, you'd noticed that every features was slightly skewed. But the man was so incredibly gorgeous you could not keep yourself from staring at the overall effect all that rugged beauty created. 

Starsky was mesmerizing.

His eyes were such a dark shade of blue they defied description. Hutch had been trying to decide what color they really were for years. Are they cobalt blue? Midnight blue? Sapphire blue? Or indigo? Starsky's eyes were all those colors--and so much more--because the intensity of Starsky's inner fire was such that he could transfix you with the emotion in those expressive eyes. To this day Hutch remained totally stunned by Starsky's beauty and the complexity of the soul that was housed in that magnificent body.

Starsky ate junk food from dawn until dusk, but he worked out every day and kept himself in great physical shape. The muscles in his arms, chest and torso had been so carefully developed, Starsky looked like he'd been chiseled out of a slab of sun-bronzed marble. Hutch never tired of letting his hands run rampant over that lean, hard body. The briefest caress ignited the fuse in his cock. The merest touch made Hutch want to drop to his knees and worship Starsky.

The desire Hutch felt for Starsky was stronger than anything he'd ever felt for other lovers-- and Hutch had enjoyed being with many lovers. 

Starsky's dark tousled curls looked windblown on his pillow. Cresting even when they were mussed because they were so thick and enviably plentiful. They rioted over Starsky's scalp like a flock of frolicking sheep--or an ocean made of dark chocolate waves, Hutch mused.

Hutch could almost hear the sheep laughing in his mind. He could almost taste the bittersweet flavor of chocolate curls on his tongue…

The fanciful thoughts made Hutch chuckle. Starsky heard him chuckle in his sleep and instinctively rolled towards the sound. 

Smiling in his sleep Starsky's left arm groped for him. When he didn't find Hutch in bed beside him, Starsky scowled, groped some more, and woke up looking like Curious, the 8th dwarf --Sleepy and Grumpy's cousin.

"Hutch?" Starsky grumbled, blinking the film out of his eyes until the blond blur in the doorway solidified into the lover he recognized.

"Right here, Babe." 

Hutch entered the room with an adoring smile on his face.

Hutch loved the way Starsky's heavy cock slapped against his thigh every time he rolled over. Flaccid, Starsky was bigger and longer than most men were when they were fully erect. Starsky was hung like a stud bull and that formidable cock always looked as succulent as a cluster of grapes dangling from the vines of an arbor. 

Hutch could never look at Starsky's cock without remembering the first coherent thought he had after Starsky had fucked him to the blissful oblivion of the most intense orgasm he'd ever had.  
"No wonder women always yowl like Bacchanalian Maenads when they were in your bed, Starsk. The way you make love is so intoxicating I got so high I thought I'd lose my freaking mind."

Starsky was hung like Priapus, he was as horny as a satyr, and his lovemaking inspired devotion that made Hutch feel like he was the male sex-slave of some modern-day Dionysus.

One lusty smile was all it took and Hutch was hooked.

Starsky had given him an impish, intrigued version of that smoldering lopsided grin the day they met on the shooting range at the Academy. Beguiled even then, Hutch had felt the zing of Cupid's arrow as it pierced his heart and made his cock rise like a breadstick in a hot oven. As soon as Hutch discovered that Starsky was just as beautiful and just as fascinating on the inside as he was on the outside, the astonished blond realized he was hopelessly smitten.

Now, eight years later, Hutch was completely smote.

Starsky knew every inch of his body intimately and he'd mended every wound in Hutch's oft-broken heart with a love so pure and noble Hutch felt redeemed every time they kissed.

"C'mere…" Starsky murmured, his voice as sultry and beguiling as every nuance of his face and body.

Starsky looked indecent when he was fully clothed, because he filled those tight clothes he wore so lusciously. Naked, Starsky looked like decadence personified. 

Captivated by his alluring lover, Hutch murmured, "I'm gonna cum before I even take off my bathrobe, Pumpkin." The nickname made Hutch giggle, but he couldn't resist the urge to call Starsky 'Pumpkin' as he watched Starsky bask on those yam-colored sheets.

Starsky had bought the damn things because the color of the sheets reminded him of pumpkin pie. He'd washed them at his apartment and snuck them into Venice Place in one of the many brown paper grocery bags he'd taken out of the trunk when they went shopping for all the fixins for their holiday feast. Starsky knew he'd never notice one more bag, because Hutch had been so damned distracted by all the details of their last minute shopping expedition. 

They'd been stuck on the Ramirez Stakeout so long they thought they'd be still be in that abandoned warehouse when Hell finally froze over. No way did they think they'd catch Ramirez red handed before Thanksgiving. When they caught infamous cat burglar red handed he and Starsky were elated. 

Ramirez, on the other hand, was one very unhappy crook. Much to Ramirez's dismay, they nabbed him as he was leaving the scene of a break in with a bag of jewels in his backpack. He'd be spending this Thanksgiving and at least ten more in jail.

They had just enough time to book Ramirez, type up their reports, toss them in Dobey's IN basket, and split. They tried to leave before the clock officially tolled THANKSGIVING, but it was after midnight before they actually left Metro Precinct. 

At 1:14 a.m. on Thanksgiving Day the Torino screeched to a halt outside Frank's Market. Thanking God for all night markets, the weary detectives wandered through the aisles and purchased everything they needed to make their first Thanksgiving dinner 'together.'

Sure, they'd made other Thanksgiving dinners over the years. They'd been friends and partners for almost a decade. But this would be the first Thanksgiving dinner they'd be sharing as lovers, so it was a special day for them.

Dobey covered their shift himself on Thanksgiving Day, agreeing to be the detective on call in case some gruesome murder was committed in Bay City during the holiday.

Thankfully, the psychos took the day off. They only crimes logged were the usual mayhem that occurred when people spent too much time at home getting liquored up with friends and family that they really didn't like very much. Domestic disputes and drunken brawls were inevitable during the holidays. No murders were committed though, so the Homicide detectives got a break. Dobey got to stay home with his wife and kids and Starsky and Hutch got to stay at Venice Place and cuddle all day.

Starsky always woke up cuddlesome. Always in the mood for more lovin', Starsky's cock immediately responded to the affectionate tone of Hutch's voice and the desire in those crystal blue eyes when Hutch impishly called him, "Pumpkin."

"Pumpkin!" Starsky chortled lustily. 

Starsky's smile was wondrous and indulgent as he looked at his giggling lover. He knew exactly what Hutch was giggling about and why. 'Pumpkin' was normally a name a man would call a woman or a little girl, but Starsky took no offense to the endearment, because Hutch wasn't making fun of him. On the contrary, Hutch was looking at him so hungrily Starsky felt like one of those blackbirds that got baked into a pie in that nursery rhyme. So he laughed, grabbed his cock salaciously, and used it to beckon Hutch, as he said, "Wanna piece of me Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater?"

Starsky's wanton wit never failed to crack Hutch up. Hutch laughed so hard he howled in merriment. 

"Let me go get the whipped cream!" Hutch chortled merrily, surprising Starsky in the most unexpectedly delightful way.

NO WAY!!! Starsky thought jubilantly, bolting up eagerly in bed as he watched Hutch wander back into the kitchen still laughing at the top of his lungs.

Kneeling on the center of the bed expectantly, Starsky listened to every move Hutch made in the kitchen when he lost sight of his horny blond lover.

I CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S GOING TO GET THAT CAN OF WHIPPED CREAM!

Impulsive behavior was rare for Hutch. When it happened, the impetuous impulse always came like a bolt out of the blue, dazzling Starsky with its brilliance. What surprised Starsky was that Hutch was doing something wildly impulsive when he was sober. Hutch was as beautiful as a Nordic god--and twice as funny when he was drunk--but right now his lover was stone cold sober and he was acting as silly as a loon.

Drunk with desire, Hutch walked back into the room carrying a can of cold whipped cream in his gun hand while Tom the Turkey Toy peeked out of the pocket of Hutch's green bathrobe.

"Tom was getting lonesome," Hutch murmured as plucked the toy out of his pocket and put it on the dresser so it would be looking right at them as they cavorted in his big brass bed.

"I didn't know Tom was a voyeur," Starsky quipped as Hutch put the can of whipped cream down on the dresser between the toy's splayed feet. 

Starsky had no idea how many toes live turkeys really had, but Tom had three pointed yellow toes on each of his stuffed feet.

"Why should Tom be any different than the Torino-loving smut monger who bought him?" Hutch teased as he slowly untied the knot in the belt of his olive green bathrobe.

"Hutch, the bird…" Starsky quipped, his indigo eyes sparkling with mischief.

Giggling, Hutch picked Tom up and turned him around. Now Tom was looking at their reflections in the mirror above the dresser as his feathers' mooned them like a peacock's. Like his butt, belly and wings, the base of Tom's ruffled feathers were brown. Yet each of those brown feathers were topped with a ruffle of red stripes, topped with a ruffle of white stripes that formed a fan-shaped splay of 9 feathers someone had sewn to his ass. 

Torino-striped feathers! Hutch suddenly realized, as he smiled at the reflection of the toy bird as it looked back at them benignly.

 

"You bought me that particular turkey toy because it had feathers that looked like they were dipped in your car's paint when it was wet, didn't you?"

"No. I bought 'that particular turkey toy' for you because it looked like his feathers had been dipped in peppermint candy. It's purely a coincidence that my car happens to look like a candy cane on wheels." 

The quip made Hutch laugh even as he pretended to scowl. "Quit stealing my best lines, you ham."

"Oink! Oink!" Starsky quipped as he suddenly crouched on all fours and crawled across the mattress towards Hutch with a lascivious grin on his face.

"Better watch out, Goldilocks. This piggie wants to pork you!" Starsky warned him.

Laughing raucously, Hutch still managed to change his voice into a high-pitched squeal as he said, "Not by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin."

And the chase was on!

Hutch dashed out of the bedroom and ran into the living room laughing. Starsky leaped off the bed, grabbed the can of whipped cream as he ran past the dresser, and charged after Hutch gleefully.

Hutch ran but he couldn't hide!

Starsky chased Hutch around the couch and the coffee table, thundering after him as he ran into the kitchen, around the table, and into the greenhouse. 

There were only two places you could go once you reached the greenhouse: down the stairs and into the parking lot of the restaurant below--or--back into the bedroom.

Hutch wasn't too keen on the idea of running down the worn wooden stairs in his bare feet, wearing nothing but his untied green bathrobe… So he yanked the door open that led to his bedroom and tried to use his mattress as a trampoline to leap frog his way back towards the living room.

A good idea in theory, but the mattress wasn't bouncy enough.

His BOING! ker-thunked out in mid-rebound and he went sprawling face-first onto the rumpled yam-colored sheets.

Starsky caught him from behind, straddled him nimbly, and rode Hutch like the bucking bronc he tried to be. Hutch tried to buck Starsky off, but he couldn’t do it. Starsky subdued Hutch by squirting the back of his neck with so much whipped cream it got into the blond's ears.

Rollicking with laughter, Starsky immediately attacked his yowling lover's neck and earlobes. Subduing Hutch was easy as soon as he started licking all that sweet goo off of Hutch's ear with the tip of his tongue.

Hutch had lots of erogenous zones in his neck and ears and Starsky had an almost vampire-like fetish when it came to the right side of Hutch's neck. Two sexy moles straddled Hutch's jugular vein right there--like a sign that said Dracula Was Here.

"I'm gonna eat you up," Starsky warned Hutch as he sensuously kissed his way down to Hutch's shoulder, as he yanked the green bathrobe down so he could attack his lover there. 

Clutching the rumpled sheets as Starsky squirted more of that cold whipped cream between his shoulder blades, Hutch moaned ecstatically. Hutch wanted Starsky to keep that erotic promise so he goaded Starsky to action by calling his sexually voracious lover a "Cannibal." 

No way could Starsky resist the urge to retaliate provocatively when he heard THAT lusty groan.

"Gonna make me a Chocolate Blondie," Starsky sing-songed, as he drizzled a line of whipped all the way down Hutch's spine. Starsky loved to make Blondie Sundaes out of sugar cookies, ice cream and butterscotch syrup. But this was the first time he'd ever made a Blondie Sundae out of Hutch.

Kissing and nuzzling that gleaming blond hair, Starsky wished he had ice cream syrup too. But he decided to improvise with what he had available. In lieu of a cherry to crown his Hutch Blondie Sundae, Starsky leaned over and plucked a Hershey's Kiss out of a bowl they kept on the nightstand by the bed.

They liked to take turns feeding each other Hershey's Kisses in bed. The rules of the love game was: whoever put the chocolate pyramid in their mouth initiated a kiss, then they passed the luscious chocolate candy back and forth with their tongues until it melted in their mouths as they shared it. They loved to beguile each other with kisses while they ate Hershey's Kisses, because it was far more decadent than feeding each other grapes.

Chocolate Kisses was one of their favorite love games; but they soon discovered that Making A Hutch-Blondie Sundae was a lot of fun too.

The cold whipped cream warmed up quickly on Hutch's overheated body as Starsky finished stripping off the green bathrobe until Ken was completely naked. Hutch could feel the whipped cream dissolving and it made him squirm because he was so ticklish.

"Gigglebutt!" Starsky teased his chortling lover as he slapped Hutch on that muscular squirming ass.

"I wanna Banana Split!" Hutch clamored as Starsky leaned down and impishly nipped his lover's wriggling butt.

Laughing indulgently, Starsky parted the cheeks of Hutch's ass, sprayed a generous amount of whipped cream in the fulsome cleft, then nestled his very erect cock in the sweet sticky goo so he could torment Hutch with a promise of things to come.

"One Banana Split, coming up!" Starsky shouted jubilantly as he unwrapped the Hershey's Kiss and plunked it down in the vanishing spot of goo between Hutch's shoulder blades.

Hutch was laughing so hard he bucked the little pyramid of chocolate candy right off his back.

"Whoa there, Cowboy!" Starsky chastened him, quickly retrieving the errant candy as it tumbled onto the bed. 

"Roll that way and you're gonna squish it."

"Mmmm," Starsky purred as he popped the candy into his mouth and began to suck on it.

"Cheater!" Hutch roared. 

Hutch waited expectantly, but Starsky did not lean down to give him a kiss and a taste of the candy in his mouth.

Disappointed but devious, Hutch said, "Are you gonna give me a taste of that?

His voice sounded seductive and kind of sulky at the same time.

"Give you a taste of what?" Starsky murmured with his mouth full. "You want the candy or my cock?"

Laughing unrepentantly, Hutch said, "I'm greedy. I want both."

Starsky's lusty chuckle gave Hutch goosebumps as his nimble lover moved aside so he could turn him over. Distracting Hutch with a chocolate-laced kiss, Starsky eagerly straddled him again.

Giggling even as he winced, Hutch felt the whipped cream ooze out of his butt crack and soak the sheets as his back gradually hit the mattress. Unrepentant, Starsky laughed into his mouth as they seductively tongue fucked each other.

When Starsky finally let him up for air, Hutch swallowed the creamy remnants of milk chocolate in his mouth before he said, "We're making the stockholders of all those mattress pad companies rich, Starsk."

Laughing breathlessly, Starsky said, "I know…" as he savored the last bit of candy as it finished dissolving in his mouth. Starsky didn't care. He was having too much fun.

Hutch loved the way Starsky purred when he gloated. The love gleaming in those sparkling sapphire eyes made him feel like he was as beautiful as the aurora borealis.

To Starsky's besotted eyes Hutch was that beautiful, and the hopeless romantic let him know it capricious glee.

Shaking the can of whipped cream up good, Starsky held it in both hands like it was his cock and depressed the nozzle. Frothy whipped cream sprayed all over Hutch's smooth chest as the happy blond frollicked, laughed, and kissed his sexy partner.

Starsky was totally uninhibited in the bedroom. His man-child antics never ceased to delight Hutch. Starsky's unbridled enthusiasm was contagious. Liberated by Starsky's love, and his zest for life, Hutch felt like a phoenix reborn every time they made love. 

Starsky set him on fire like no one else could. 

The ashes of past romances, which contained two failed marriages and more heartbreak than he could endure, became inconsequential when he was in this man's arms.

Hutch loved Starsky with all his heart and soul because Starsky had taught him that unconditional love WAS possible once you found someone you could truly trust with your heart. 

As soon as Starsky began licking and sucking the whipped cream off his chest, Hutch felt like he was in heaven. Starsky could cast a spell on him with that sweet, loving mouth. Those irresistible lips kissed him so poignantly Hutch wanted to weep because Starsky loved him so much. 

The feeling was very, very mutual.

Being adored by such a gorgeous, insatiable man kept Hutch caught up in a perpetual whirlwind of delight. His heart hadn't touched the ground since the night Starsky kissed him under the mistletoe he'd impulsively bought at a Christmas in July sale.

"What are you going to do with THAT?" Hutch had grumbled incredulously.

"This," Starsky murmured as he impaled the sprig of mistletoe onto the empty nail above the threshold of his bedroom in the treehouse.

Hutch watched Starsky hang the mistletoe up there like it was a lucky horseshoe. He was in the midst of wagging his head from side to side in perplexed consternation--on the verge of reminding Starsky for the umpteenth time that he was supposed to be Jewish--when the mischievous scamp suddenly grabbed him and kissed him senseless. 

Starsky had grabbed him around the waist, dipped him into his arms like they were dancing, then he'd masterfully captivated Hutch with a slow lingering kiss that ignited a fire in his body that still raging out of control. 

They'd been lovers since July 9th. Every time Starsky touched him, Hutch felt like Christmas in July. His body burning up from within like it was a hot summer day while his heart glowed like a star on top of a tree. Every nerve ending he owned sparkled like multi-colored Christmas lights as Starsky unwrapped him like a present.

"Mmmm," Starsky purred as he savored the taste of Whipped Cream ala Hutch. "You taste so good, Babe."

Fingers tangling in Starsky's thick, cream flecked curls, Hutch laughed and said, "Your sweet tooth is insatiable."

"So's my appetite for you," Starsky assured him. 

Starsky's voice was like sex by a roaring fire. But whipped cream was clinging to his lips and chin like a devilish goatee, so Hutch laughed even as he melted inside.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Devil Claus!"

Still laughing, Hutch raked his fingers through Starsky's curls and lick-kissed the frothy sweet beard off his lover's wanton face.

Starsky was so damn sexy and virile he always looked like he was ready for sex. Or thinking about sex. Hutch adored how his kisses could make his gorgeous satyr looked so blissed out  
when he ravaged Starsky's mouth. The laughing kiss he'd initiated soon turned deep and passionate. 

As soon as Hutch had Starsky thoroughly distracted, he rolled his beguiling lover onto the sticky mattress and slipped the can of whipped cream out of Starsky's gun hand.

Laughing with maniacal glee, Hutch quickly drenched Starsky's hairy chest with whipped cream foam while Starsky was still laying beneath him looking dazed with desire.

"Gotcha!" Hutch crowed triumphantly.

Grinning salaciously, Starsky chuckled heartily and said, "I let you have that, ya know."

"That's not the only thing I want," Hutch purred as he let the can of whipped cream roll away while he feasted. 

"Then take me, Hutch. You know I'm all yours."

Hutch loved it when Starsky murmured hot love words and vows of devotion to him while they were in bed. 

His hands smeared the whipped cream into the dark curls on Starsky's muscular chest and torso like he was playing with fingerpaints as he seduced his writhing lover.

"All mine…" Hutch savored the words out loud, knowing they were true.

Inspired by the wicked gleam in Starsky's eyes, Hutch decided to let go and make his wildest dreams come true. The ornery blond gleefully made himself a "Polish Frothsicle" as he covered Starsky's cock with whipped cream and languidly sucked it clean with rapacious sexual glee.

Swirling his tongue around the dripping tip, Hutch could taste Starsky's salty pre-cum deliciously mixing with the sweet tufts of whipped cream that dissolved in his mouth like cotton candy clouds.

Starsky made Hutch feel like a god playing sex games in the sky when he tangled those adoring fingers in his blond hair and fantasized out loud as they cavorted in bed.

Groaning ecstatically, because Hutch knew how to make him feel so good, Starsky writhed beneath that sensual mouth as Hutch ravenously sucked him in slow motion.

Sex with Hutch was wondrously surreal…

Because Hutch always took his time and made it special…

"That's it Thor. Chase me across the pumpkin sky and catch my dirigible before it disappears into the clouds," Starsky rambled.

The whipped cream made Starsky's cock slippery, so Hutch kept losing it when it slid out of his fingers. Starsky's words sent Hutch's imagination soaring on a fanciful journey where he was the Thunder God Thor chasing a galloping centaur through a field of fleecy white clouds.

"Dirigible," Hutch chortled before he devoured Starsky's Hindenburg again. The comparison was not hyperbole. Hutch felt like he was trying to swallow the Goodyear Blimp when he deep-throated Starsky's magnificent cock.

"Gonna make you go down in flames," Hutch vowed when he finally came up for air.

"Not yet, Baby Blue," Starsky pleaded as he intercepted Hutch's mouth with a kiss after that questing mouth briefly latched onto his nipple while that firm hand continued to torment his cock with such loving strokes.

Hutch loved to suck cock, but they both needed more. Starsky wanted to feel Hutch inside him and the rampaging blond needed to be inside of him badly.

"Today we're goin' down in flames together. Thor and The Dirigible are gonna have a mid-air collision," Starsky predicted.

"Then we need more clouds," Hutch murmured, as he frothed up Starsky's pubic curls with more whipped cream so he could swirl his fingers in it and see if it could be used as lube.

Whipped cream melted too fast to be used as lube, but Hutch had a rollicking good time conducting his erotic experiment on Starsky's laughing, wriggling body. 

As it turned out, their pre-cum mixed with whipped cream greased them up sufficiently to facilitate penetration.

Hutch made Starsky feel like a genie oozing out of Aladdin's lamp when he rubbed their cocks together to create such that decadent friction. 

His blond Merlin could weave spells with those magic hands. Those musician's fingers and that angelic voice sent Starsky to new heights of ecstasy every time Hutch touched his cock with erotic intent.

Hutch's hands were so strong but so gentle. His touch was decadent but devoted because Hutch found him so desirable.

Those long golden fingers collected the nectar oozing from his cock like it was honey dripping off a spoon…

Starsky's balls were buzzing like a beehive. Hutch made him feel so hyper-aroused it was like he could feel every molecule in his body zinging through the cosmos as their bodies slowly merged.

Hutch was always careful, always patient, savoring every second of their joining because the sensations were so exquisite.

Hutch was like lightning in a bottle. Starsky felt like he'd been skewered by Thor's thunderbolt every time Hutch made love to him. 

The sizzling desire Hutch evoked with every thrust sent Starsky soaring into the sky like sizzling fireworks. Sparkling like a Roman candle, Starsky's writhing body felt like it was being consumed from within by a raging wildfire!

Caught up in the magic of their lovemaking, Hutch's eyes were barely open as he created a surging rhythm that was an echo of their combined heartbeats. Starsky's name became a mantra Hutch kept chanting repeatedly. Every time he thrust in and out of Starsky's yearning body, Hutch felt like he'd found Nirvanna between the bowed legs that were tossed over his sun-kissed shoulders. So he breathlessly exhaled the word "Starsk" like he was a horny blond snake hissing to his mate.

Starsky loved it!. Because Hutch's cock was so big he felt like he WAS being ravaged by a lusty sea serpent.

Every time Hutch's cock made Starsky groan with pure pleasure, Hutch felt like a new man. Hutch never had to worry about performance anxiety when he was with Starsky. His desire for Starsky was an obsession.

All their lips had to do was touch and Hutch was ready to give Starsky everything. His life, his love, his very soul.

Because Starsky had earned his devotion with every look, every touch, every smile, every laugh, every tear, every hug, every word, and every pardon he'd ever granted him during the many years of their eventful friendship.

When he said "I Love You" to Starsky he meant it with every fiber of his being. Even when his being was so breathless all he could do was pant, "Love You!" "Love You!" "Love You!" ecstatically as he thrust into Starsky like a blissed out madman.

Overwhelmed by joy, Hutch was babbling incoherently as his rocket took them both to the Moon in fervent surges of passion. 

Starsky always made Hutch feel like he was a winged god when they made love. 

"Love you too!" "Love you too!" Starsky chanted deliriously. Starsky's passion making Hutch soar like Pegasus and Cupid and Icarus all rolled into one.

Nothing could quench Hutch's fire when he got this hot.

Hutch was all light and all power when he made love. Gentle as a lightning bug during foreplay. Masterful as a thunder god their bodies were seared together by the lightning bolt heat of that  
hard, yearning cock.

His lusty pirate-prince surged inside of him like an ocean that was on fire. His Viking lust would not abate until he came explosively and repeatedly.

Starsky's body arched beneath Hutch like a captive sex slave. His nimble, insatiable body writhing ecstatically, because Hutch was the captain of his heart and Starsky loved being Hutch's pirate booty. 

Every bed they slept in became their treasure chest. Because Hutch made him feel like a star sapphire every time that glorious cock went off inside him.

The orgasm Starsky experienced was so intense he felt like his soul shattered. Body and mind imploding like a star going nova when his own cock jettisoned his cum at the same incredible moment.

Hutch's hand milked him dry as that rampaging cock fucked him raw. Starsky could barely move when it was over. Every muscle in his body screaming "YES! HELL, YES!!!!" as he reveled triumphantly in unparalleled carnal joy.

When all that hot cum burst out of his cock like vaporized starlight, Hutch felt like the sun that went nova inside of Starsky. Because the ball-wrenching orgasm Hutch experienced created a black hole of sensation inside his testicles. His balls felt blown away--yet they still glowed from within--like a new galaxy of love and enlightenment has been born inside his body when he came.

Transformed, the blond phoenix cuddled his treasure like he was holding stardust in his amazed trembling hands.

"Thank you," Hutch marveled as he looked down at Starsky's sated, sweaty face.

"Whatcha thankin' me for? You're the one who just turned me inside out, Blintz."

"I'm just grateful that you're you," Hutch murmured between kisses as they cuddled while their bodies cooled. "Because you're the only lover I've ever had who's made me glad that I'm me."

"Aww, Babe," Starsky crooned as he hugged Hutch close and cherished him with his lips and his hands. "Holidays make you so maudlin. What you need is some breakfast. How 'bout some pumpkin pie and coffee."

"For breakfast?!" Hutch grimaced incredulously.

"Sure!" Starsky said, eyes with mischief.. 

"We'll feed it to each other like wedding cake and sip the coffee out of the same mug. Then we can honeymoon some more," Starsky suggested, waggling his eyebrows salaciously.

Hutch wasn't fooled one bit.

Forking his fingers into Starsky's thick curls, Hutch kissed his romantic mushball and called Starsky a "Sentimental fool,"

Starsky wasn't denying a thing when he laughed and started singing. He just had to chase the tears out of Hutch's eyes when he saw them glistening there. So he started warbling: "I just wanna make love to you. You and nobody else but you. I just wanna make love to you. Ah-low-oh-own!"

"What? And hurt Tom's feelings?" Hutch scoffed. "No way! It's still Turkey Day Weekend. If you wanna make love to me, the bird watches. We made a pact while we were in the greenhouse sipping orange juice."

Chuckling heartily as he wrapped his arms around Hutch's waist, Starsky kissed his goofy lover and said, "I'm glad you like him, Hutch."

"I like everything you give me, Starsk."

"Especially when I give you a back rub and gently fuck you to sleep," Starsky purred.

Smiling sleepily and salaciously, Starsky yawned and said, "You look like you could use a nap, Hutch."

Yawning too, Hutch wondered for the umpteenth time why yawns were contagious but sneezes weren't. Reluctantly getting out of bed, Hutch said, "I'll help you change the sheets."

It was nine o'clock in the morning on the day after Thanksgiving, but Hutch WAS ready for a nap. They'd spent Thanksgiving Day, cooking, eating, fucking and frolicking, so they'd worn themselves out.

"Why doesn't this surprise me?" Hutch chortled when he found another set of yam-colored sheets squirreled away in his linen closet.

"Sheets are like tires--you gotta have a spare, " Starsky quipped, as he wrapped his arms around Hutch from behind and nibbled on his shoulder blade.

"Your holiday spirit is irrepressible," Hutch marveled as he tangled his fingers in Starsky's curls again and savored another kiss.

"Kind of hard not to be in the holiday spirit when you're covered with whipped cream and holiday cheer," Starsky gloated as he looked at their sex smeared bodies.

Laughing, Hutch kissed his adorable man-child and said, "You could turn Arbor Day into Mardi Gras for termites, Starsk. Like I said before: Thanks for being you."

The End


End file.
